


Keep You Warm

by SoBeBold



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Angst, Bottom Bucky, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, T'CHALLA HAS A LAST NAME Y'ALL LET'S USE IT, These two are the cutest and I just cant stand it come flail with me!, oh yes lots of that, top t'challa, wpweekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7485309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoBeBold/pseuds/SoBeBold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky comes out of cryo. Both he and T’Challa are dealing with some major league issues. Being the warriors they are, they tend to keep it all bottled inside…but who said spooning was off limits?</p><p>or</p><p>The five times T'Chucky cuddled platonically and the one time there was nothing platonic about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Keep You Warm 护你温暖](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754526) by [Lovesss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovesss/pseuds/Lovesss)



> My first T'Chucky evaaaaa! Fuck yes!

1.

Bucky had been out of cryo for an entire forty-eight hours now. He had a comfortable apartment in the Wakandan palace, replete with a California king size bed with thousand thread-count sheets and more blankets then he could shake a stick at. Still, he was shivering cold. The chill from his personal icebox refused to come out of his bones. 

When the king ran into him it was because Bucky was up at 2:30 in the morning, roaming aimlessly through the halls of the palace. 

"Sergeant Barnes.” T’Challa’s voice was not loud or forceful, but it still carried as much gravity and poise as always. Bucky looked up with a start. Very few people could sneak up on him, but if anyone ever could, it was the Black Panther.

T’challa stood in a power pose, feet spread shoulder-width apart, defined chest lifted and shoulders back, and hands clasped regally behind his back. He looked every bit as royal as he ever had, even in a simple white V-neck T-shirt and silk pajama pants.

He made Bucky nervous. Although whether in a bad way or a good way, he hadn’t decided yet.

"Couldn't sleep,” Bucky said by way of explanation, making it sound much lighter than it really felt. It didn’t work the way he’d intended, especially with the way his voice cracked and grinded from disuse. He looked off, working at appearing casual but instead appearing as pained as he was. 

“Oh?" T’Challa’s handsome facial features shifted, his normally carefully-crafted veneer lined with wrinkles of concern. It was only was syllable, only the slightest change of expression, but Bucky felt the truth being drawn out of him all the same.

"I've been cold. Since I woke up. Seems like nothing I do works to keep me from feeling _so cold_.” He grated the last words of his sentence between his teeth. It wasn't just his body that felt the chill. It was also a metaphor for his entire life. Ironic, really. 

A silent moment of contemplation passed for the king. Finally he said, "I may have a solution for you. It is a bit unconventional.” 

A few minutes later found Bucky in T’Challa’s bed, which somehow managed to be even larger, even more plush, even warmer than the one he was given. The true source of the heat was the King’s chest plastered to his back, arm around his waist, fitting neatly beneath the space where metal arm had been, with thighs and groin pressed against his buttocks; definitely unconventional, but nonetheless it seemed a damn good option. 

Still, Bucky squirmed and rustled. 

"What is the matter, Sergeant? “

"Trying to get comfy. This is kind of weird.”

"You are the one who wanted to be, how did you say it, ‘little spoon.’” The king sounded mirthful. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at that. He adjusted to the foreign, but not uncomfortable feeling of all of T’Challa’s front against all of his back. Once he relaxed into it, he found that he was comfortably warm. _This really was a good…_ Before he could finish his thought, he had dozed off into the King’s cushy pillows. 

Barely three hours later, one of the King's attendants stepped into his chambers to wake him. She walked in with breakfast to place in his study, readying the suit he had picked out for the council meeting that afternoon. When she opened the door to his room she was treated to quite the sight. She immediately bit her lip, and with a sly smile backed away and shut the door softly behind her. It couldn't hurt anything for T’Challa to sleep in for just one day of his life.

 

2.

Bucky heard a strange sound coming from outside T’Challa’s rooms (yes, it _was_ very convenient that he just so happened to be walking by). It was definitely a sound of distress. A sound of pain. Bucky didn’t think, he just found himself inside T’Challa’s bedroom, having kicked through the incredibly well-armored doors and set off about fifteen different alarms. 

T’Challa was on his ass on the floor, clutching some sort of trinket, sobbing. This was the last thing Bucky expected to see. 

“T’Challa.” Bucky muttered, and stood there, at a loss for what to do. It’d taken awhile for T’Challa to convince Bucky to use his first name, although he still usually called Bucky “Sergeant Barnes”.

T’Challa unfurled his battle-calloused hand to expose what he was holding. It was the ring, the one he’d used to control Bucky’s arm when they’d first “met”.

“I thought of my father,” he said, answering Bucky’s questioning look.

“Shit.” Bucky ran a hand through his wild hair. Fighting he knew how to do. But this?

_Here goes nothin’,_ he thought to himself. Bucky simply sat, leaning back against T’Challa’s bed with him, brushing their shoulders together in a show of solidarity. 

The king clearly did not like being exposed like this, but he didn’t hide his tears. He wasn’t afraid to show that he was a human being, like any other human being. Bucky couldn’t help but to admire that about him. 

“Not afraid to unload, are ya?” He joked, feeling awkward. Luckily, T’Challa smiled. 

“My father believed strongly in this, to remember that a great man is still only a man, who must feel and laugh and weep. He believed it helped to make a better ruler.”

“Your father was a great man.” T’Challa looked up to see Bucky staring back, looking straight into him with his piercing glacier-blue gaze. “I never got to know him, but I see what he built and what he stood for. I see that he did a hell of a job raising his son.” T’Challa smiled again, enough to even show some of his pearly whites. The Sergeant might have thought he was an awkward and socially ill-equipped person, but when he spoke from his heart he said all the right things. Bucky saw the smile and felt lighter. He was _doing_ something. 

“I wish I could take some the pain away for you. I wish I could…hell, I don’t know, build a time machine. I know what I can do, though.” He clapped a heavy hand on T’Challa’s shoulder and jerked his head towards the bed. 

He doubted the Sergeant would ever know it, but T’Challa enjoyed his humility and the gentle manner that belied the wildness of his eyes. He liked the way Bucky’s hair hung in his face and his stubble shadowed his jaw. He liked the size of him, all solid muscle slabbed over heavy bones. It was especially nice with T’Challa sprawled over Bucky’s strapping chest, eyelids falling closed as the single strong arm stroked his back, letting the beat of Bucky’s heart lull him to sleep.

 

3.

“This is amazing,” he said in wonder. Bucky’d been “playing” with his new arm for a couple of hours now. It was like watching a kid on Christmas morning. He’d been lifting things, punching holes in things, climbing things, while T’Challa stood back just being entertained by him, keeping a steady supply of destructible items coming.

Bucky’s eyes softened at the corners when he saw the king laugh. It didn’t happen often, but when it did it was glorious, and Bucky was excited to be the one to bring it out of him. Maybe a little too excited? By now he was pretty sure what he felt for T’Challa was a little more than a sense of camaraderie and gratitude.

T’Challa caught the look on Bucky’s face, but wasn’t quite sure if it meant what he hoped it did. “Are you a better cuddler with both arms, Sergeant Barnes?” T’Challa had laughed as if it was a joke.

Bucky’ sexy half-smirk turned his insides to liquid. “Only one way to find out.”

The vibranium wasn’t as cold. It was also lighter and more flexible, but Bucky had the sneaking suspicion that it was a hell of a lot stronger, as well. All the better to hold T’Challa with, and hold him he did.

 

4.

"Don't you think this is gettin’ a little weird?” Bucky mumbled as he crawled, hands and knees rustling the sheets, from the foot of T’Challa’s bed to the head. Their spooning sessions had become more and more frequent. Bucky wasn't sure which part was more tripped out; the fact that they did it so much, or that it was _normal_ to them now.

“You say this as you climb into my bed, Sergeant,” T’Challa’s voice sounded both amused and…sultry. Bucky tried not to blush furiously, but was sure he failed miserably. “When I suggested this solution to you, Sergeant Barnes, I had not realized that it would be so effective. I believe we have gone far beyond ‘weird’.” T’Challa shrugged, the corners of his lips turning down in a playful frown as he chuckled.

“Welp, I have heard that physical contact makes you healthier, both mentally and physically-” Heaven only knew how much he needed some physical and mental health right about then,”-Besides, isn't this normal for you as a panther?”

"Panthers are solitary animals,” T’Challa seemed to mull this over in his mind for a moment before continuing, "but perhaps it is time for that to change.” He held his blankets up, beckoning for Bucky to curl up in front of him, the little spoon like he preferred. Bucky did, and as he settled back against the king- his king- he wondered what that change would look like.

 

5.

Bucky didn’t realize their midday nap was being watched until he heard, ”What's a little totally platonic cuddling between two grown men?” T’Challa opened one eye and fixed Sam, the guilty party, with a withering stare. To his credit, Sam didn't back down, only snorted and suppressed a laugh.

“How do all of these people keep getting into my rooms?” T’Challa grumbled sleepily.

"How about platonic cuddling between _three_ grown men?” Bucky retorted with a wink at Sam, motioning for him to come and join them. Sam stood there looking at them like they were crazy, but only for a second.

“What the hell. It’s not every day you get to cuddle with a deadly assassin and a king.” He took Bucky’s front, whispering, “But don’t go around tellin’ people about this, I need to maintain my image.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bucky said as he wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders. 

A few minutes passed before they heard; “Guys. Seriously?”

“As a heart attack,” Sam crowed, giggling at the look on Steve’s face.

“We have room for one more, Captain,” T’Challa said, and all three of them erupted into laughter as Steve rolled his eyes and climbed in behind the king. Eventually it turned into a big puppy pile as Shuri, Nat, and half the Dora Milaje piled in. Good thing T’Challa had such a big damn bed.

 

+1

The cold hadn’t gotten to him in a long time, he noticed, when he climbed into the king’s bed. T’Challa looked at him differently this night and it was unnerving because Bucky had never seen this look before; it was ominous, but not in a way Bucky could identify. He’d already settled on his side, assuming little spoon position, when he noticed T’Challa hadn’t moved, was barely even breathing. A glance over his shoulder saw T’Challa still giving him that look. Bucky didn’t know what to make of it, but the main feeling he got was “hungry predator.”

“What?” Bucky asked, bashful now.

Wordlessly T’Challa leaned forward. He captured Bucky’s chin between his fingers and gently turned his face, pressing a kiss to his mouth. It was warm, and soft, and over too soon.

Bucky licked his lips, stared wide-eyed before he could find his voice. “What was that for?” He asked like a big idiot. T’Challa threw back his head and laughed. Bucky laughed, too, before pulling the king back down for another, deeper kiss.

Gravity stopped its pull and suddenly they were floating, untethered, lost on the taste of each other’s tongues. 

They went on like that until Bucky registered the king’s hand on his hip, gripping the flesh there, and working his way around. There was a sharp intake of breath when the king took Bucky’s hardening dick in his hand and, with an admirable amount of dexterity, made it that much harder. Bucky was still in total shock, looking at T’Challa is a sort of lust-hazed confusion, but T’Challa looked back at him with nothing but pure confidence, as if he had known the soldier would be seduced. 

“No one will come until I summon them. It does not matter if it is a year from now. No interruptions,” T’Challa purred. From the tone of his voice, Bucky could tell that he had something planned. Something that could prove to be more fun than just a cuddle.

“What did you have in mind?” Bucky asked, smirking, and little breathless.

Then the tip of that tongue was on his neck. Then the hand was roaming over his abs, tracing the cut of his pecs and pinching his nipple.

The king of Wakanda was nothing if not an honest man. The truth of the matter was, he’d been harboring one hell of a crush on the sergeant and trying to deny the true depth of his affections-and yes, his lust- had grown wearisome. To have the man himself now writhing under his touch was beyond worth the risk.

T’Challa hadn’t come into this unprepared. He extracted a bottle of lubricant from one of his bedside drawers.

“You just knew you were getting laid tonight, huh?” Bucky chuckled.

“I am accustomed to getting the things that I want.” Bucky rolled his eyes fondly, but the sexed-up grin on T’Challa’s face made him want to get out of his pj’s post haste.

T’Challa's touch was bright and hot, like the sun. He radiated raw sexual power, tempered by an even and controlled wisdom; it was the sexiest thing Bucky had ever seen, and it made him want to do unspeakable things. Things that were probably against Wakandan imperial law.

T’Challa was fascinated with the man before him. All the cunning, precision and physical capability of an assassin overlaid the sensitivity and empathy of a man that was, at his core, too good for this world. He was the type to take out a dozen adversaries armed with only dental floss and a toothpick, but he also knew just what to do for a grieving friend. The king wanted to reach what was buried inside and extract it, like a gift he wanted to unwrap. 

Their breathing grew heavier and the room grew hotter, and they knew it was time to escalate to the next level, whatever that was. 

Bucky had never attempted what he had in mind, had never even really considered it before, but here, now, with T’Challa, he wanted it. There was an emptiness, a _need_.

“I want-“

“What do you want, Sergeant?” Bucky suddenly came to realize how much he loved being called “sergeant” during sex.

“I want you to- I want-“

“Yes?”

“I want you inside me.” It was such a foreign thing to say, so strange that it seemed like it was coming out of someone else’s mouth, but at the same time he was so sure of himself, and proud

of the way it made T’Challa growl.

A mess of lube smeared on his hands, he reached behind himself for T’Challa’s dick, coating it liberally. 

Of course, the man’s dick was king-sized, too. He knew this, and took his time pushing inside.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky gasped as it opened him up. It hurt a bit, but there was no friction there, only the stretch. Bucky took some time to adjust to it, shifting his weight back and forth, working it in deeper. 

T’Challa’s patience was superhuman, especially since all he wanted to do was drill the sergeant through the floor now that he had him, now that the gorgeous ass he’d been admiring for weeks was swallowing his cock.

The feeling of being so full made Bucky quiver. T’Challa peppered his neck and shoulders with kisses and began the slightest in and out motion.

Bucky started off with a hand on T’Challa’s hip to slow him down, to give himself time to adjust to the slow, shallow movements, but soon the stretch was turning to pure pleasure. Soon he was inching himself back, hungry for it.

The king spread Bucky’s ass open for a better view of himself sliding in and out, their contrasting skin tones making it that much hotter. They had sex the same way they cuddled; front plastered to back, in the way they were most familiar with each other’s bodies.

Under Bucky’s well-muscled thigh went T’Challa’s hand; he hefted the leg up, giving himself better access. Bucky’s back arched, angling T’Challa right where he needed him.

“You’re really deep,” Bucky gasped.

“Do you like this?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” At that T’Challa growled low in his throat, every ounce the panther. Bucky couldn’t help but be amused. Taking the Wakandan king’s dick that deep would cause anyone, human cyborg soldier or otherwise, to make noise. Bucky braced himself with his palm down on the bed and let out a string of lewd, carnal sounds. He was free to be as loud as he pleased. There was no one around to hear him. 

“I love taking you like this,” he heard himself moan. There really was no controlling it. He was totally outside of his head right now, like he was on another planet. “Fuck me,” he said.

“What did you say?” 

“Fuck me, Your Majesty.” 

So he did. T’Challa flipped them over, pushing Bucky onto his stomach, knocking his knees apart with his own, one hand to the small of the soldier’s broad back the other on the headboard. Then the real show began.

The king had a stroke that was seemingly well practiced, and when he changed his angle and pounded Bucky’s prostate just right it made him, well, buck. T’challa held him in place, his sweat-slicked muscular body weighing Bucky done as he drilled him. If T’Challa thought he was loud before, he had another thing coming.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Sergeant?” T’challa whispered against the shell of his ear. Bucky could hear the smile on his lips. He was a smug bastard and Bucky told him so.

“You’re one smug bastard.”

“I am aware.”

Bucky would have laughed except-

“I’m gonna come. Don’t stop, I’m gonna come.”

When the king grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back while burying himself to hilt, Bucky shuddered. 

“Your Highness, I’m gonna…”

“Come for me.” And he did, so hard he saw stars behind his eyes.

T’Challa followed, spilling inside of him with a roar that rattled around and echoed in Bucky’s head, and Bucky found that he wanted that, too. It was hot and sticky and made him feel filthy but in such a good way… He wouldn’t be getting out of bed tomorrow, mainly because he wouldn’t be able to walk. Collapsing facedown in the sheets wearing a shit-eating grin seemed like a good option right then. 

"Do you see? No interruptions.”

"I think you should call at least one member of your court back. I need somebody to bring me some Gatorade. And a fucking sandwich.” 

It didn’t matter that they were sweating and smeared with various bodily fluids, they cuddled, just as they had done since that first fateful night when Bucky was fresh out of the freezer and wandering aimlessly. He realized something else; he trusted T’Challa. Maybe he felt something…something even more for him than that.

Suddenly overtaken by emotion, Bucky cleared his throat. “I haven’t felt cold since that first night, that very first night. You…I just wanna say thank you.”

T’Challa’s smooth voice flowed over the shell of his ear. “I will always keep you warm, Sergeant, if you let me.”

And then there was nothing but sated sighs, and quiet contentment, and blissful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it! Kudos and comments are love and make my day! Thanks for reading. ❤

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Keep You Warm 护你温暖](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754526) by [Lovesss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovesss/pseuds/Lovesss)




End file.
